


Promises

by jaekayelle



Series: It's Complicated [5]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaekayelle/pseuds/jaekayelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger and Rafa's relationship is inevitable and they find ways to be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Dislaimer: This is a work of fiction. No assumptions are made about the lives of these real persons. No profit is made from this story.
> 
> A/N: Some feedback on this or any of my stories would be nice. It's the only payment fic writers get and I love to find out what you think of my efforts. Be kind, feed your authors. :)

After Rafa and David left, with Rafa giving Roger a long, searching look as he walked out the door, Roger followed Mirka into the kitchen. He helped her clean up and put the dishes in the dishwasher. 

“What do you think, about what David said?” 

“Share my husband with his boyfriend? Sure, why not?” Going by the edge in Mirka's voice Roger guessed she wasn't quite on board with the idea. 

“Mirka,” Roger began.

“No. Let's not go over it all again. I'm sick of it. Go. Be with him. All I ask is that you don't act any differently around me, and that you respect my feelings. I still love you. If you decide some day that you want to be with him instead of me, I will ruin your career and you will never see our babies again.”

She turned her back on him. Roger watched the tension in her shoulders grow, so he took a chance and sidled closer to her, closer, until he could wrap himself around her. She tensed even further, at first, but then she turned in his embrace and hugged him back, her arms locked around his ribs, face pressed against his chest. 

Roger kissed the top of her head.

“My feelings for you haven't changed and they never will.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

#

Roger watched the final on television in their living room, with Mirka, his team and their wives and girlfriends, the girls and their nannies drifting in and out. They all saw Rafa defeat Juan Martin. Roger watched as Rafa started to lift that incredibly heavy crystal trophy, thought better of it and set it back down on the table, so he could lean on it while cameras flashed all around him. Last year that had been him out there, with Rafa gone home after their semi. 

“Good thing he didn't lift that sucker,” Paul commented. “He has a habit of hurting himself with his trophies. He might have knocked himself out.”

Everyone laughed. Roger thought Rafa looked very confident and happy. Both he and Juan Martin had played a great match. It was hard sitting here and watching rather than being a part of it, but his back still hurt and he knew he would have to fight his way back. Next year.

#

The party went on for a while, and then their guests went home. Roger and his family were to return to Switzerland for the longest stay there they'd had in nearly fifteen years, his team to meet up with him again in a couple of weeks. 

Roger found himself at loose ends, restless and out of sorts. Finally Mirka said, “Go to him. Be back by morning. We have to pack to go home.” 

He left without argument, far more quickly than he should have, hoping Mirka hadn't noticed. He was eager to see Rafa, now that he could do it without a guilty conscience. Before starting the car he texted Rafa to let him know he was on the way. 

_Where are you?_

Rafa replied almost immediately: He sent him his hotel and room number.

_Hurry!_

#

When Roger arrived it appeared that most of the Armada was in the hotel room Rafa had rented, rather than staying at Larry Ellison's. Didn't anyone go home after their earlier losses? He was greeted effusively by Feli, Nando, and Marc; Toni and the rest of the Nadal clan were also there. Roger found himself hugged and kissed and his hand shaken and his back patted, albeit gently, before he could get anywhere near Rafa. Ferru wandered in just then with a bucket of ice. He spied Roger and made an announcement in Spanish that Roger didn't catch, but suddenly everyone was heading out the door. 

Puzzled, Roger turned to Rafa. “Where is everyone going?”

“To Ferru's suite that he's sharing with Nando and Feli and Marc. This room is too small anyway.”

David called to Rafa. “You come down later?” He spoke in English, presumably for Roger's benefit.

“Si. I'll be there later.” Rafa's reply was louder than necessary, supposedly for the benefit of everyone else. And then the door closed, the noise level became sudden silence, and they were alone. “I not know all would be here. They just show up right after we text.”

“It's okay.” 

“Mirka?”

“Her idea.”

Rafa nodded. Roger stared. Then they moved towards each other. Their mouths met and clung. The lust that surged through Roger's body overwhelmed him. He couldn't get enough of the vibrant young man in his arms. Rafa's hands were clamped around Roger's shoulders, as if unwilling to ever let him go. 

Roger felt like he couldn't draw a deep enough breath, his body was so tight with desire and want and need and _right now_. His back twanged but he ignored it. Instead he backed Rafa up until his knees hit the bed and they toppled onto it. 

Then Roger could no longer ignore the pain and he rolled off of Rafa and cursed, his hands covering his face.

“Dammit,” he said quietly. 

Sitting up beside him Rafa leaned over and asked concernedly, “What wrong? Your back? No lying, Rogi. Tell me.”

“Yeah. It hurts. I can't do this. I want... I want you so bad. But I can't.” He'd gotten half-hard the moment the others had left the room, but his erection had wilted because of the sharp spasms in his back. 

“Move.”

“What?”

Rafa helped him stand up. 

“Lift your arms.”

Curious as to what Rafa was up to, Roger did as he was told. Rafa pushed his shirt up and off, careful not to jostle him. He tossed it onto a chair.

Then, with Roger balancing himself with one hand on Rafa's shoulder, he removed Roger's shoes and socks, and undid the button on Roger's jeans and slid the zipper down. 

“I can do this much myself, you know.” The truth was it was pretty hot being undressed by another man, by Rafa. He was getting hard again, and could feel his cock straining against the material of his underwear. 

Rafa stopped what he was doing and gave him a look. 

“Massage first and then maybe sex. Maybe, if you not hurting.”

Struck by the determination mixed with concern and love in the Spaniard's eyes, Roger nodded and lifted his feet just enough for Rafa to get the jeans off, leaving Roger in his briefs. He saw the look of appreciation before Rafa helped him lie face down on the pillowy comforter. He rested his cheek on his folded arms and tried to relax. It was difficult because his back was tense and he tightened up even more knowing Rafa was going to manipulate the muscles. 

“Is okay, Rogi. I won't hurt you. I go slow. If it hurts even a little say so and I stop, no?”

“Yes.”

Rafa got up and went into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a bottle of lotion. “No oil. This will do.”

He knelt on the bed and straddled Roger's legs, being careful not to rest his weight on them. After a moment he placed his hands on Roger's back, beginning at the waist and stroked upwards, firmly but not too hard. 

He did that a few times and then asked, “This okay?” 

“Feels great.” It did. Unsurprisingly, Rafa had strong hands and he knew how to give a massage. After a couple of minutes Roger felt the most of the tension ease out of him and with it some of the pain. 

“Tight.” 

Roger grunted when Rafa hit a knot and dug it out with his thumb. “You're almost as good as Steph.”

“I learn when I get worked on.”

Yeah, Roger had been the subject of so many therapeutic massages that he recognized some of the technique by feel, too. 

Lulled by Rafa's gentle and rhythmic manipulation Roger let his eyes close and drifted off. 

#

He awoke once during the night to darkness, except for the light from the silent, flickering tv. Rafa lay beside him with one hand resting on Roger's wrist, a blanket pulled up over both of them. He registered that Rafa was at least shirtless and he snuggled closer to his warmth, allowing himself to absorb the comfort and he fell back asleep. 

#

The sky was beginning to lighten when he woke up again and Rafa was kissing his way down his back, pausing at the swell of Roger's ass. 

“Morning,” Roger said conversationally. 

“How you feel?”

Stretching carefully Roger announced, “Better.”

Rafa's smile outshone the dawning sunlight. 

“Not take chances. Lie still and let me help you.”

“Help me?” Roger was amused at Rafa's choice of words. “Help me do what?” 

Rafa crawled up the bed on knees and elbows, until his face was right there in front of Roger's. “Help you come.”

Nearly going cross-eyed trying to see the other man's face Roger asked with mock innocence, “Come where? Where are we going?” 

Rafa rolled his eyes, deposited a lightning quick kiss on Roger's mouth and then returned to his task at Roger's ass. Roger just realized he was missing all of his clothing now. Rafa kissed and licked his way over and around the rump, and then he closed his teeth on it. 

Roger yelped. “Hey! You bit me!” 

“Not hard.”

“Hard enough.” Then Rafa soothed the sore spot with more swipes of his tongue, traveling closer and closer to the centre, until his tongue began to probe. Shivers shot straight up Roger's spine and around to the back of his throat and he came so hard, so unexpectedly, that he saw stars. Just from that.

Rafa crawled back up to his side and rested his head on his hand, elbow on the bed. He looked a little smug.

“Still tense?”

“Don't know what that means,” Roger replied when he was able to think again. He felt limper than a melted...melty thing. Maybe thinking was over-rated.

Rafa petted Roger's hair, over and over. When Roger opened one eye, that he didn't remember closing, he saw such a look of contentment on Rafa's face that he placed his hand against Rafa's cheek. 

“That was embarrassing.”

“Que?”

“Me. Coming like a teenager. You surprised me.”

“No one has ever done that for you?”

“The tongue...thing? No. A finger, but no tongue.” Roger frowned. “Wait. Did you...?”

“I'm good. I got off watching you.”

Roger blinked. Rafa's expression was almost worshipful, but not in an idolizing way, if that made sense. Just love. Nothing but love. 

“When I get back full use of my limbs and senses I'll help you do it again. It'll be more fun next time.”

Laughing, Rafa said, “I order breakfast. We both need energy for love.”

True. Very true.

#

Roger pulled Rafa up so that his lover's back was pressed against his chest. At the same moment he thrust his hips upwards. Rafa was seated deep in his lap and they were both kneeling on the bed. The wrecked sheets evidence of their previous lovemaking. Rafa's hands were clamped on top of Roger's, which were linked across Rafa's belly. Curls tickled Roger's ear when Rafa's head tipped back, rivulets of sweat falling from his face and neck. 

Grunting with the effort of holding Rafa where he could fuck him senseless, Roger watched himself and his slippery lover in the mirror across from the bed. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured. He saw Rafa open his eyes and then smile at their reflection. 

“Yeah. We are.” Then his expression changed. “Please, Rogi...” His hand flailed towards his groin, reaching for his cock. 

Roger gently pushed his hand away and curled his fingers around it, sliding them down and then up, finding a rhythm to match the one of their bodies. 

“Oh! OH!” 

Rafa's cries punctuated their movements, driving Roger to pump his hand harder, to push up from his thighs harder. Finally finding what to do with his hands, Rafa placed them on his knees to steady himself. They moved together, the heat in Roger's abdomen circling and circling, like an inverse tornado, pressing higher, until he grew as frantic as his lover. Ribbons of hot semen spilled over his hand when Rafa climaxed. Roger dug his nails into Rafa's skin and erupted, yelling as he did. 

More or less turning to liquid, Rafa sort of folded over onto himself and pitched forward onto the bed. Roger followed him down, falling partially on top of him. 

“You okay?” Roger asked after catching his breath. 

There was some muttering. It was unclear what language it was muttered in. 

Roger kissed Rafa's temple, eased out of him with care. Removing the condom, he tied it and threw it in the trashcan beside the bed. and then rolled over onto his back and immediately regretted it. 

After a while Rafa stirred and sat up to peer at him through a mess of curls. 

“What going on?”

“You know,” Roger said conversationally, “there's something to be said for adrenaline. It masks all kinds of things.”

“Your back?”

“Yeah,” Roger breathed out between his teeth. He glanced at his watch, the only personal article he still wore. “And I need to get back to the house. We fly out today.”

The room phone rang. Without taking his eyes off Roger Rafa answered it. He spoke rapidly and then hung up.

“Ferru. Toni is on his way here. He try to head him off.”

“Sometimes it seems like Toni thinks he owns you.”

“He does. In a way. I owe him my career.”

“Yeah, but he's your uncle and your coach. He seems to have a lot of control over you.”

“He think he does.” Rafa slid off the bed and reached out to help Roger stand. “Hot shower will help.”

Leaning on each other they made their careful way to the bathroom. Rafa started the shower, testing the temperature with his hand before urging Roger to step under the spray, not once letting go of him.

“I'm not an invalid.”

“Just man with sore back,” Rafa pointed out.

“Where's your trophy?”

“In Ferru's room.”

“You two are very close,” Roger observed. 

Laughing, Rafa said, “Si. My brother.” It was the simplest explanation for what Roger knew to be a simple, uncomplicated relationship.

“That's good. David is a good man.”

“He is. Turn around.” Rafa picked up a washcloth, wetted it thoroughly and rubbed gently across Roger's back. “Soap up front.”

Doing as he was told Roger lathered soap across his chest and arms and then between his legs. His cock had no interest in joining the proceedings. His legs were a little rubbery and he was tired, but he knew he had to get back to Mirka before she sent out the attack dogs. He was pushing his luck a little by staying as long as he had. Good thing he loved and adored his wife, because she could be pretty fierce when she got angry. It was also a good thing that she loved him, otherwise she'd never let him play with his boyfriend again. 

Boyfriend. Wife. He was pretty spoiled, actually. 

#

It took some coordinating, with Ferru's help, but Roger got out of Rafa's room without running into Toni. 

The leave taking was difficult. They didn't know when they'd see each other again.

Kisses too deep for the amount of time they had and too fleeting to satisfy had to suffice. Finally, Roger drew back. One of them had to be strong and initiate their parting. He was the only one with a conscience named Mirka waiting for his return. Yet, when he pulled back and looked into Rafa's brown eyes he knew the Spaniard was not taking Roger's commitment to his family lightly. 

He simply said, “Go.”

Roger kissed him one more time.

#

Mirka studied him intently when he walked in the door. He wasn't sure what to make of the expression on her face. He felt like she still wasn't happy about the newest addition to their marriage. 

She never mentioned anything related to where and what he had been doing, but she didn't seem too angry either. A little out of sorts, maybe. She merely continued her packing, so Roger began to gather his things. 

#

They texted every day that Roger was in Switzerland.

When Roger's back was healed enough for him to do a little light hitting his practice partners arrived. By the time Tommy Haas got there Roger felt well enough to put more effort into it. He and Tommy spent hours out on the courts, in the wind and the rain. It wasn't ideal weather, especially with Roger's cranky back, but they made the most of it. 

One day, when Tommy took a few minutes to go inside, Roger pulled out his cell and texted Rafa. 

_Miss You._

The reply came almost immediately. _Rogi! Miss you too. When we see each other?_

_Madrid, I guess._

_So many weeks._ Even Rafa's text sounded sad. Roger could relate. Their timing wasn't the greatest, with planned breaks after Indian Wells and Madrid being the next tournament they were scheduled to play at the same time. 

Then Roger smiled. 

_Meet me in France?_ he texted. 

_Where? When?_

Roger sent him the details. 

By the time Tommy got back Roger felt a lot better about everything. 

“Why are you smiling like that?” Tommy asked, narrowing his gaze suspiciously. “Am I about to get beat up on the court?”

Picking up his racket Roger said, “I think that just might happen.”

“Great. Just great.” Tommy muttered to himself as he took up position across the net. “I leave for a few minutes and come back to face you in God mode. Guess you're feeling better?” 

“I feel good!” Roger served and their practice turned into a full blown match, with Tommy doing his best to keep up. 

#

It was a secluded, private beach on the southeast coast of France, near Cassis. They had to scramble down a very steep path to get to the hidden cove, called a calanque. Sliding down the pebbly hillside Roger kept his footing with remarkable agility, but all he was thinking of was where to put his feet. He carried a picnic basket and had to balance that as well as himself. Behind him, sliding in his wake, was Rafa who carried two blankets. He'd resorted to wrapping them around his shoulders so he could keep his arms out. 

Finally they reached the brilliant white sand that ringed the turqouise water. 

Stumbling to a halt beside him Rafa stopped and stared.

“Beautiful.”

“It is, isn't it?” 

“You come here before?” 

“Once, just to explore.” Roger walked a short distance away and entered an even better concealed area, protected from prying eyes by an outcropping of jagged rock. There was just enough room for the two of them to spread out the blankets, which they did. Roger brought out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. 

Rafa watched with a smile. “No plastic cups for you.”

Grinning back at him Roger said, “Got a reputation to maintain, besides I like the finer things in life.”

He poured wine in a glass and handed it to Rafa, then poured one for himself. He looked at Rafa, skin tanned by the sun, blinding white smile that never quit, and felt his heart flip flop. 

“To us,” he said simply.

“Si, to us.”

Their glasses chimed from the touch and they sipped their wine. Roger drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped one arm around them, feeling very content.

“I like fine things, too.” Rafa said, after a while, setting aside his glass on a flat rock. “You very fine. I like you.”

“I like you, too,” Roger said softly. He put his glass down as well, and crawled over to Rafa. He leaned over him and placed one hand on Rafa's jaw, holding him still while he kissed him as thoroughly as he was capable. 

They ended up lying on the blankets, warmed by the sun, undressing each other slowly, taking great care to savour each exposure of skin as it came visible. Roger mouthed his way down Rafa's chest, claiming a pert nipple as his own and worrying it with his tongue. Rafa squirmed under him, fingers locked in Roger's curls, gasping his name. He bucked his hips spasmodically, crooning in Mallorquin. 

Roger stilled him by holding his hips down and mapped his way down his body, until he reached his leaking cock, bobbing against his belly. Roger nosed the hairs, breathing in his musky scent. He lifted his head to look at Rafa. His lover had his eyes clamped shut and his mouth wide open. Grinning, Roger crawled back up and kissed him until he mewled with need, before returning to his goal. 

When he took Rafa in his mouth he swallowed as much of the shaft as he could, trying not to gag. It had been years since he'd done this and had to remember to breathe. Sliding his hands under Rafa's hips he kneaded the soft flesh of his ass. He licked and sucked, and Rafa moaned, wiggling in desperation. 

“Please, Roger! Please!”

The muscles of Roger's throat were growing weary. He pulled off with a pop, stuck his finger in his mouth to wet it, and then slipped it in the crease between Rafa's buttocks. He found the entrance he sought and pushed slowly inside.

Rafa was crying incoherently now, words beyond him in any language. 

Roger went as deep as he could, searching for that little nub... 

A scream pierced the silence of their little cove.

Ah, there it was. 

Rafa pulsed and spent his seed all over his chest. It took moments but when he subsided he just lay there breathing hard, his eyes locked on Roger's face, his expression grateful and stunned at the same time. 

Roger moved up to kiss him again. 

“You okay?”

Gulping for air, his lover nodded jerkily. 

Reaching into the picnic basket Roger pulled out a condom and some lube. Preparing both of them may have set some speed records, but he was painfully, dripping hard and needing satisfaction very soon. He got his hands under Rafa's hips again and pulled him up so that Rafa's legs were draped over his shoulders. Then he took himself in hand and slid home. 

They both gasped. Roger began to fuck him hard, desperately. Rafa reached out, clamping his hands on Roger's forearms. He hung on tightly. Roger stopped moving then snapped his hips forward once, twice, and came so violently he nearly blacked out. 

He fell to the side when Rafa's legs dropped away, lying on his back on the blanket, one hand resting on Rafa's chest. 

“Mmph.”

“Si.”

#

When they awoke they went for a swim in the cove. Roger had always been part fish, loving the slipperiness of the water on his body. He dove and flipped and skimmed through it like he was born to it, and Rafa kept up with him. 

They tussled a bit and then embraced, treading water and holding each other up. 

Roger kissed Rafa on the tip of his nose, earning a silly grin for his efforts. 

“This is fun,” Rafa told him.

“I wish we could do this always.” 

And just like that they were returned to reality. Sobering, they swam a while longer then went ashore to eat the food they'd brought. When they were dressed and everything except the blankets they'd brought back in the basket Roger turned to his young lover. 

“We will find a way to make this work. Even when we're on tour.”

“Promise?” Rafa looked so trusting and hopeful.

“Promise.” In that moment, more than anything Roger wanted to keep that vow. 

They held hands as long as they could, until they needed them to make the steep climb back up to the real world and the uncertainties that came with it. 

 

# end


End file.
